


The Worst Patients

by LizBee



Category: House MD
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-31
Updated: 2006-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House has a run-in with karma, or possibly the just-world phenomenon, or possibly irony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Patients

House woke up, and the world was white. Pure white with tiny flaws of lines and colour. On the edge of his perception, he could hear the soft beep of a machine. He felt no pain.

_Post-op_, he thought muzzily, and for an awful moment, he wondered if time had reversed itself, or if he was just crazy.

He closed his eyes and let unconsciousness claim him again.

*

House woke up, and the world was grey and glass.

"Goddammit," he said, or tried to say. Attempting to sit up was a mistake. Strong hands took his shoulders, forced him down again and gave him water, while a voice above his head called for a nurse.

The nurse was familiar. Brunette with a pretty face and annoying laugh. Had messed up a blood draw once. He hadn't quite reduced her to tears. She didn't look him in the eye as she checked his blood pressure and adjusted the IV line. He thought she might be smiling.

"Wilson?"

"House?"

"Why am I in here?"

"You mean you don't remember?" Wilson sounded amused, but also unhappy. Worried? Touching. "You finally reached your goal of pissing someone off so much they tried to kill you."

"Right. Good. Make a note, Doctor House is no longer treating the children of psychopaths."

"I'm sure Cuddy will find that a relief."

Exhaustion was setting in again. House could see this was going to become very tedious, very quickly. But there was still no pain, which hinted at vast quantities of powerful narcotics being pumped into his bloodstream, which was always fun.

He went back to sleep.

*

House woke up, and it was dark.

"Wilson?"

"He went home an hour ago." Cameron was standing by the window. She looked pale beneath her make-up.

"I hope you two haven't been sitting here in shifts. Because that would be creepy."

"No. We haven't."

House stretched experimentally. Left arm in a sling. Fresh stitches beneath the surgical tape on his shoulder hinted at a new scar. Ribs taped. Both legs present and accounted for. One – the left – in plaster.

"Broken femur," said Cameron in answer to an unasked question. "It was a clean break. At least."

"Physio's gonna be a bitch. Tell me that I was at least right about the kid's liver."

"One hundred percent. The father still wants to sue for malpractice, but he's busy being prosecuted for a hit-and-run accident."

"Morons."

"Stacy's dealing with them."

"Good. When can I get out of here?"

"You should rest."

"Doctors make the worst patients, you know." He paused. "That's a threat, by the way."

Cameron gave him a sweet smile. "You're not my patient," she said. "Thank God."

*

The fun bit ended when they cut back on painkillers. House attempted to bribe Wilson to bring him a bottle of scotch, a brilliant plan that fell apart when Cuddy entered mid-negotiation. House consoled himself with the knowledge that he was giving the nurses a vast education in previously unknown obscenities.

"My mother always said adversity built character," said Stacy, watching an intern flee.

"No," said House, "it reveals character. Turns out that under that gentle façade, I'm a cranky old bastard."

"I'll try to cope with the shock."

She brought him a pile of books and a copy of People magazine.

"Are you trying to tell me I watch too much TV?"

"Do you need me to tell you that?"

"No, I was just trying to start a fight."

"Boredom doesn't suit you, Greg."

"Well, there's the obvious statement of the year."

*

That evening, Cameron arrived with a pile of folders in her hands and a worried look on her face.

"Presents?" House asked.

"Work."

House flipped through the folders. "Boring. Boring. Obvious. Cancer. Boring. Oooh – nice." He pulled the notes out of the pile and settled down to read.

After a moment he noticed that Cameron had not yet left.

She said, "Do you believe in karma?"

"If you're referring to my being mowed down by an angry relative, then no, I try to avoid confusing Eastern religious tenets with the just-world phenomenon. This was just cause and effect working in combination with psychosis. Or maybe just irony, if you're into Alanis Morrissette."

"I'm not."

"I'm amazed."

"But actually, I was referring to the fact that the most unpopular doctor in the hospital – that's you, by the way – is now a patient, and at the mercy of his colleagues and the nursing staff."

"Are you sure? I could have sworn Mendes was less popular."

"Nope."

"What about that orthopaedic surgeon who always goes to the bathroom when it's his turn to buy drinks?"

"He also does card tricks."

"And that's good?"

Cameron shrugged. "People like card tricks. They're humanising."

"I could learn to juggle."

"Be nice to the nurses."

"Or what, they won't give me my sponge bath?"

"Haven't you wondered yet where your cane got to?"

House paused. "No. Actually." He considered the matter. "Should I?"

Cameron stood up, the better to lean over him.

"You've cultivated the aura of a legend," she said. "New interns and nurses learn to fear you, and even the people who don't like you are respectful. Because there's a kind of power in being a man who might say or do anything. But it's all tenuous. When a legend falls – that respect is gone. And you have to start building the aura again from the ground up. The nurses had your cane in their lounge. I guess it would have been returned eventually, but – well, it was all just a joke to them. So I stole it back. It's in my office, for when you need it."

House swallowed.

"Cameron, that's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

"Has anyone told you lately that you're insane?"

"Only Chase and Foreman. It's been quiet without you."

"Just as long as you're thinking of me." House held out the file. "Go do the bloodwork on," he peered at the name, "Kelsey. And an MRI."

"What are we looking for?"

"Not sure." House leaned back. "I'll know it when I see it. Concentrate on the lower digestive tract."

"Right." She straightened up and made her way out.

"Oh, and Cameron?"

She paused in the doorway.

"I meant what I said. About you being crazy."

She smiled. "I'll keep it in mind."

*

House woke up, and the sun was rising. He could hear the squeak of the nurses' shoes in the corridor, and, outside the window, distant birdsong. He wanted a cup of strong coffee, some vicodin, his motorbike and an empty road. What he had, apparently, was the promise of weak instant coffee in the near future, a motley handful of friends, non-hostile acquaintances and ex-girlfriends, and Cameron.

It would do, for the moment.

 

end


End file.
